iBlame It On The Alcohol
by EmilyHelene
Summary: "Please, I'm not some docile lightweight like you, dorkerella. Mama can take it."  "Yeah," I rolled my eyes at her, "that's exactly why you showed up at my door at three AM wasted out of your flippin' mind."
1. Just The Beginning

**iBlame It on the Alcohol**

_an iCarly story_

**by: EmilyHelene**

_Dedicated to my girl and fellow Seddie Shipper: __**Danielle Campagnolo**_

**Disclaimer: **Now, I'm going to say this slowly. I. DO. NOT. OWN. iCARLY, capische? Good, I'm glad we're on the same page...or same story at least because fanfiction does technically _have _pages. THAT was lame. ANYWAY... I don't own iCarly, but I do abuse my computer privileges because of it. :)

_**Summary:**_ "Please, I'm not some docile lightweight like you, dorkerella. Mama can take it."

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes at her, "that's exactly why you showed up at my door at three AM wasted out of your flippin' mind."

_November 3__rd__ 3:02am _

_15 Baron Street, Unit 2-B_

**Freddie POV**

"You're missing out, dude." Adam's words echoed through my mind as I put the finishing touches on that night's pride and joy. I had turned down a night of hard partying with a big group of guys and their girlfriends to get ahead on my homework and now, I would lie awake wondering what would have happened, had I stayed out until three rather than up. I pushed myself away from my desk and was met with the sound of hard, plastic wheels on the creaky century-old hardwood floors of my residence. The two guys below me had long since adjusted to that sound. Not that any of them really studied much aside from the girls down at Voltage, a popular club for the single and desperate located about five blocks from our house.

I hit print and watched the eight page paper fly out, neatly stacking themselves one on top of the other. I ran a hand through my hair, pulling it out of its prison of hair gel so that it flopped down on my forehead and sporadically brushed my eyelids. I could feel the hard seam of my pants digging into my leg and after twenty two hours of use, my shirt was beginning to suffocate me. I grabbed a pair of sweats and a t-shirt that I was pretty sure smelled clean and headed for the bathroom to grab a quick shower. What else was there to do at three in the morning anyway? At least my mom would be proud of me.

After I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off I took a look in the mirror. Black bags hung under my eyes and I looked as tired as I felt, but there was an edge to my features. An element of satisfaction that really only came with the pride of a job well done. Or the pride of a job well done early in my case. I pulled the t-shirt on over my head and towel dried my hair in the shortest amount of time possible, wanting nothing more than to just crash right then and there.

From the window in my living room I could see the beginnings of dawn and permitted a yawn to escape from my lips. A sideways glance at the clock confirmed my suspicions and I grabbed my paper from the printer tray in my room and set it out on the coffee table, mentally reminding myself to proof it one last time when I woke up. I shut off the lights and opened my door, listening to it groan and squeak from being used too many times. I did a once-over of my room and realized I'd be doing laundry tomorrow as well because I was fairly certain that I had more clothes on the floor and near my hamper than I had in my closet. Yet another thing to add to my never-ending list.

Finally, I just pulled back the covers and tried not to focus on anything other than the pattern on my pillow, which, in time proved to be rather distracting anyway. I was just drifting off to sleep when all Hell broke loose in the hallway and I was forced to open my eyes once again. I groaned and tried to bury my head with the pillow and then my covers but apparently banging from the hallways is not so easily deafened by measly 150 thread count sheets. At first I just tried to ignore it but when I heard the familiar drunken giggle followed by numerous complaints from my neighbours (few of which I could repeat) I knew who the cause was. "Sam," I practically mumbled.

**Earlier**

_November 3__rd__ 1:37am_

_The Red Door Nightclub_

**Sam POV**

"Round one!" Jared shouted, smiling at the pretty waitress as she passed by. Before long, six vodka shooters appeared in front of us and I peered into the tiny glass, respecting the liquid for the immense strength it held over my buds and I. Not many could totally alter Sam Puckett's thought process, but vodka could do it every time.

"Bottoms up!" Kirsten yelled, gleefully. The girl was the ditsiest drunk I had ever seen and made no effort to hide it. I raised my glass and looked around the table. Most of the faces were unfamiliar ones and usually just blended into the club atmosphere. Usually, I went clubbing with Kirsten and she called whoever to tag along. More frequently than she would care to admit, she ended up waking up next to one of them with no memory of the previous night. I'm not one to judge, but the girl could try a little harder. Not that I was much better, waking up late for class with splitting headaches at least twice a week. The toilet and I were well-acquainted, to put it simply. But Kirsten was known for her non-stop partying and ability to hold down booze, unlike my girl Carly. Never, I repeat never go to a bar with Carly Shay. We weren't even there for an hour before I was lugging her home so she could barf her little lightweight brains up until at least six in the morning.

I brought the tiny shot glass to my lips and sucked it back. The sharp liquid slid down my throat, overpowering my senses and making my ears ring. I shook my head at the sensation that always came with the first shot of the night.

"Sam!" Kirsten's bubbly voice burst over the commotion of the club. She practically lugged me from my seat and over to the dance floor where guys began sizing us up. I pretended to be too drunk to notice their stares and started dancing with someone at random. He had a faux-hawk, white shutter shades, and smelled strongly of alcohol. Then again, everyone here did and I wasn't really picky when it came to things like this.

When the song finished, the guy tried to follow me to my table but I sorted him out. He was pretty wasted so it didn't take much, but still, there were things I would rather be doing dressed the way I was. After a few more drinks (I'm off the clock so I'm not about to do something nubby like try to calculate my total alcohol intake for the night) and a _lot _more dancing, I was starting to wind down. Back at our table, I pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time and found two missed calls instead, both from Carly and both wondering where the hell I was. Try to keep in mind that as I typed this message I was pissed drunk so I can't really be blamed for my dumb drunk texts. Shay'd figure out what I meant eventually. I should have wanted to go home, seeing as it was already past one in the morning, but my good friends vodka and orange juice were a little too persuasive. No way was I leaving just yet. I tossed my purse and heels under my coat at the table and trudged to try and hunt down some familiar faces on the dance floor.

"Yo, Puckett." Kirsten's voice came in a sharp whisper which, in all honestly, surprised me. The girl wasn't really the type to whisper. About anything. I felt her tight grip on my arm as she pulled me closer to her and pointed her drink at a random person across the dance floor.

"Craig's feeling pretty lonely, hon. Couple of us were hanging with him and he's had his eye on you since we got here." She pouted on the guy's behalf, trying her best to be persuading. I would dance with pretty much anyone, but actually being set up with someone wasn't my style. Correct me if I'm wrong, but even to me, a club doesn't seem like the best place to meet a serious boyfriend. They were for having fun, not making lifelong commitments.

I gave her a look that clearly said I was not interested in little mind games.

"Okay fine," she pouted, "He just wanted to know if you were single."

I rolled my eyes, this always happened at least once a week. There were two things that polar opposites Carly Shay and Kirsten Reed had in common, one, it was their apparent need to hook me up with random strangers and two, they were the only ones I _wouldn't _beat senseless for it.

"Kir, I'm really not interested right now. I think I'm going to go get another drink." I should have known that wouldn't get me far. With a giddy shake of her head, Kirsten flashed a smile across the dance floor at another boy standing a few paces to the left of newly dubbed "Random Dude of the Night". From what I could see he was tall with floppy blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. He would have been cute and possibly even my type if not for the blue and grey striped polo that would forever classify him in my mind as a nub. Kind of like that kid, Benson.

Kirsten's expression turned pleading as she calmly motioned to the other boy, silently explaining that he was her "Random Dude of the Night" and if he played his cards right, "Random Dude of Tomorrow Morning" as well. Love the girl to pieces, but she's kind of a whore. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. I let forth a groan before permitting myself to be dragged over to the other side of the packed dance-floor. All around me wafted the aroma of sweat, vodka and stupidity that, together, created a perfectly fun club atmosphere.

"I'll go over with you, but no way am I letting you hook me up again. Not after last time." Yet another reason _not _to love being hooked up. In her defence, she was completely boozed up but even I noticed that the guy she told me time and time again was checking me out, batted for the other team.

"He _was _checking you out. I swear to effing God! I didn't know!" she babbled, desperately trying to dig herself out of the hole she had just fallen into. I thought this would last for a bit but the second we came within ear shot of Craig and Stripes, she was all smiles, giddily sipping her drink and falling all over herself. I shook my head.

"Heeeey, Blaine!" she purred, throwing an arm around his shoulder and inching herself closer to him. The disgusting look on face made it clear that he didn't mind.

"Hey yourself, gorgeous," he whispered in her ear. I made a point of thoroughly expressing my disgust (the oh-so-mature gagging gesture) as they started sucking each other's faces off. To be honest, I felt a pang of jealousy. Not that I wanted to suck anyone's face off like that, but I wanted something that Shay and Reed had in common. A boy, or in Kirsten's case, many boys. I'm not about to confess that I dream about someday having the perfect domestic life with two kids and a house in the suburbs but come _on._ Was it so wrong to want someone to care for me? And not just because of the way I looked? Someone that could handle me and wouldn't make me change. God, I sounded like such a romantic sap. I wanted to gag at my own inner thoughts when a voice pulled me from my insufferable pity party.

"Can I get you a drink, or something?" Oh, right. I was supposed to be talking to someone.

"Uh," I looked over at Kirsten and Stripes and quickly turned back to face him, "Yeah, sure."

"I'm Craig." He shouted above the roar of the club.

"Sam!" I shouted back. Without thinking, I tugged on his arm and practically wrenched him away from where he had been standing and over to the bar. It was pretty bleak for a Thursday night, but then again, it was getting pretty late. I swivelled on my heels, almost falling over when my surroundings kept spinning even after I'd stopped.

"Whoa, watch yourself!" I felt a hand on my elbow, steadying me and a hot blush covered my face.

"Whoops! So, Craig, drink?"

"Nah, better not. Someone's got to haul everyone home tonight." I laughed. Not because I found him particularly amusing, but because he reminded me of someone. Even in his appearance. He had the same chiseled jaw and eyes that were so reminiscent of gravy that I began to crave poutine. I tried not to let his lame, plaid button down shirt deduct from his overall appeal. As Kirsten would say, it wasn't the shirt that mattered, anyway. God, the girl was a skunk bag. In the best way, though. Is there a way to be a respectable skunk bag? Like some sort of line you cross, because I'd like to know.

"Sam? You feeling alright?" Craig's voice pulled me out of my mental rant and I groaned internally. This was the second time I'd totally blocked him out all night. Crazy things happened when alcohol took over. I became almost...nice. I shuddered.

"Yeah, just a little thirsty." I turned to the bartender and practically shouted my order in his face. "Rum and Coke, and make it fast! I never said I turned into an angel; I was just a tad more considerate. Okay, so maybe there was no real difference. "And the boy wants one, too."

"Minus the rum, though, please." God, what was it with this boy and manners? Honestly, it was almost like he was trying to be Benson's twin brother. Wouldn't that be an odd thought? He'd probably have a weird name, too. Like Jarvis or something. Then Melanie could like, marry him and I'd marry Freddie and we'd be a giant ball of inter-related twins. Mental Etch-A-Sketch. God, this was some strong stuff.

"Could I see some I.D, please?"

"What?" I asked a faraway tone in my voice. "Oh, right. I.D." My hand instinctively flew to my side where my purse _usually _resided before coming to the inevitable conclusion that I'd left it on the table. Along with my shoes. For some reason I kind of felt dizzy again and when I started to lose my balance, Craig steadied me.

"You know what, man; she doesn't really need another drink. Right, Sam?"

"Nah, I'm okay." I protested. I had asked for my drink for a _reason_. Stupid Craig, trying to be responsible.

"Seriously, Sam. How many drinks have you had?"

"A few." I lied, sitting down on one of the swivelling bar stools and slowly turning back and forth. He raised an eyebrow and I rolled my eyes. Again with the similarities.

"Okay, fine more than a few. But I haven't exactly been keeping track. Who do you take me for, a concerned nub?" I could feel the frustration seeping into my tone and pooling like a puddle of ink. The more questions he asked the more frustrated I got.

"Maybe you should go home. I can give you a ride if you want?" I considered telling him just where he could shove that ride of his when I realized that he was probably a nice guy and was better than some of the creeps that I ended up dancing with. Dan had probably already been swept away by the temptation of the club and other than a cab; my options were kind of limited. Albeit reluctantly, I agreed.

"Fine, I'll go get my stuff." I grumbled, heading over to the table. Before I got there, I caught up with Kirsten.

"Who's that fine piece of boy you got there, Sam?" She drawled, eyeing Craig devilishly.

"It's the guy _you_ introduced me to, dimwit!" I snapped, already annoyed that I was leaving, even if it was for the best.

"Sorry, don't have to be so touchy," she replied, stepping back a little too quickly. The liquid courage in her glass sloshed wildly before a good portion of it suffered the effects of gravitation pull and wound up all over her shoes. "Shit, look what you made me do. You're buying me another one tomorrow," she breathed, but it didn't really seem like she cared much.

"Put it on my tab," I laughed, despite my mood, "I'm heading out."

"With _Craig,_" she wiggled her eyebrows and sang out a little too loudly.

"Not what you think," I assured her before giving her a quick hug and heading off to collect my things. By the time I reached the door, Craig was waiting for me, keys in hand.

The cool breeze hit me like a ton of bricks and reduced the dance-induced flush greatly the moment I stepped outside.

"It's the Explorer over there," he smiled motioning across the parking lot. This time, it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. A college kid with a nice car? Now _there's_ an oxymoron.

We walked over in silence and with virtually no interaction. Save me stumbling over my own feet a few times. I hopped in the passenger side, shut my door and leaned against the back of the seat, shutting my eyes. Tomorrow morning was going to suck, but I was too giddy to worry about silly things. I decided to do what I did best; ignore the consequences. I'd never run into any trouble with it before. Okay, fine. I'd never run into any _serious_ trouble before.

"So..." he started, his words long and drawn out. He was obviously just as sick of the awkward silence as I was. "Where do you want to be dropped off, again?"

"Uh," I rattled off the first thing that came into my mind. "15 Baron Street, by Marty's Deli."

He nodded and tapped it on his GPS, which I watched a little too closely. A purple heart appeared, bouncing along the digital road on the screen and I had to stifle my laughter. I couldn't resist asking.

"Why's the marker a purple heart?"

He reddened slightly at this, "Oh, I was babysitting my niece earlier today. I forgot she changed it. Her favourite colour's purple." He looked over at me with an amused smirk, "Something wrong with that colour?"

"Nope, not a thing." I fiddled with a loose thread on my dress before bringing up another topic at random. "So where do you go to school?" I winced at how lame I sounded, but hey! At least I was trying!

"DigiPen. It's in Redmond, do you know it?"

I nodded, "I know someone that goes there."

He looked at me with interest. "Oh, yeah?"

I looked out the window as we turned a corner, doodling on the cool glass of the window. "Yeah, this kid, Freddie Benson. Know him?" I mumbled, forgetting to attach the usual heavy dose of disdain.

"Yeah, he's in my Computer Science class. Pretty sure he's top of the class."

I snorted. No surprise there.

"What about you?" Another attractive snort brought to you by Sam Puckett.

"Far from it, bud."

"You finished with school?"

"Nah, I take a few courses down at Seattle Central. Unlike Benson, I don't have every aspect of my life meticulously planned out. He's such a nub."

"Sounds like your complete opposite. You know what they say about opposites..."

And that's when I lost every shred of self-control. On a whim, I hit the power button for the radio and cranked the volume as loud as it could possibly go. Craig's voice and my thoughts became a jumbled mess among the heavy bass and overly-audio corrected diva.

"Jesus, Sam!" Craig shouted, turning down the music. "What the hell?"

"Sorry," I whispered, inhaling sharply my inner Puckett shining through. "Here's a little bit of a heads up. I'm drunk, bud!" He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled deeply.

"If you want to listen to music at least make it good." He pressed a button and a familiar beat surrounded me.

"Here we go again; I kinda want to be more than friends." I sang, likely very loudly though probably on-key. "So take it easy on me, I'm afraid you're nev-er sat-is-fied." Before I had enough strength to stop myself, I began to kind of tap out the rhythm on my knee and _maybe _dance around a bit despite my seat belt. I mean, I was pretty wasted so it was kind of to be expected.

Suddenly, the music stopped and Craig's voice could be heard loud and clear among the silence.

"We're here."

I turned to see his face, though clearly annoyed, smiling slightly at my antics. I gave him a wide grin and opened the door, doing my best to slide out and not fall over right away.

"Want me to walk you up?" he asked, but I shook my head furiously. For some reason, all I wanted to do was crash. Well, that and dance around like an idiot. I got the feeling that a happy medium would be rather hard to come by.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks for the ride!" He handed me a folded up piece of paper.

"Here's my number if you ever need anything." I nodded and began to walk up the path to the building, only stumbling on my shoes a few times. "Try to behave yourself?" He called, sticking his head out the window.

I got a devilish look in my eyes and shook my head. "NEVER!" I called back. At least I was being honest.

"Oh, oh, I want some more. Oh, oh, what are you waiting fo-o-or? What are you waiting fo-o-or? Take a bite of my heart tonight." I sang, though in a much quieter register than before. Of all the songs to get stuck in my head, it had to be this one. The lyrics didn't make any sense and the beat was only so-so.

I waltzed into the lobby, the doorman asleep at his post. I contemplated pranking him for old times' sake but ultimately decided to put it off for a bit. When under an influence my pranks became a little more on the illegal and hard to deal with side. I tip-toed behind the desk and swiftly buzzed open the door to the elevator with all the covertness of a true invisible ninja. My keys were somewhere but I didn't feel like a) looking for them and b) wasting my finely honed and, not to mention stealthy, ability to play by my own rules.

Unfortunately, when I got inside the elevator and pressed the floor button, I tripped over my own two feet, wound up landing on my purse and accidentally pocket dialling a random stranger who shouted at me in a foreign language until I hung up. What a night. And the fun part hadn't even started yet.

**A/N:** Was everyone hopelessly OOC? Was it the best fic you've ever read! I don't know if you don't tell me! And what better was then with a review? Hint: There is not a better way!

By the way. I hope Sam's stint in the club was accurate and that her drinking was actually as it would happen in real life. Being 14, I've never really experienced it so I hope it made sense!

Thanks everyone for reading my first iCarly fic, I've been dying to post one forever and I hope this one doesn't label me an iCarly noob. I'm a huge fan of the show and ship Seddie in a way that is dangerous to both my education and my health, LOL. I'm usually a pretty slow updater but reviews always give me a reason to write faster! I'm SO sorry I haven't updated my other stories in forever! If you follow any of them, I love you and I'm so sorry! I've had some family issues that I've had to get through and just an overall stressed couple of months. It's no excuse, I know, but it's the best I've got.

Please, please, please press that adorable little review button! It's definitely appreciated!

Also, if you're looking for some good iCarly fics, check out Waffles of Doom, KWilson (iShakespeare is beast but it's super long! I love it, but not for those lovers of simple one-shots!), Basco57 (My Couch is again the same thing but one of my favourite fics), AshleeSeddie's stuff is really cute and hilarious, Virgoleo23 and aussiegal18!

There are any more and I don't mean to limit the great ones to just them, but those are some great authors I've been reading recently! Anyway, it's late so I'd better get going if I want to function like an actual human being tomorrow...

Hope you liked it and I'll update as soon as I can!

-EmilyHelene


	2. Honest Mistake or Twist of Fate?

**iBlame it on the Alcohol**

_an iCarly story_

**by: EmilyHelene**

**_Disclaimer:_** Did you know I am a compulsive liar? I OWN iCARLY! I OWN iCARLY! Haha, just kidding. Neither of those statements are true!

**(The Seddie Arc never happened in this particular universe (and it makes me so happy to need to say that! SEDDIE!)**

**_Rated T for Language_**

**_Summary:_** "Please, I'm not some docile lightweight like you, dorkerella. Mama can take it."

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes at her, "that's exactly why you showed up at my door at three AM wasted out of your flippin' mind."

* * *

><p><em>November 3rd 2:58am<em>

_15 Baron Street, Unit 2-B_

**Sam POV**

I stepped out into the hallway of the second floor and searched for my keys, trying to remain at a standstill and failing miserably. Frustrated, I emptied the contents of my bag all over the ground and got down on my hands and knees. In all, there were four opened and half-eaten packs of gum, my cell phone and a bunch of random stuff that I had absolutely no explanation for. On a whim, I opened a pack of gum and lo and behold my key was tucked between two of the individually wrapped pieces. I am a genius.

I tapped my foot along to the rhythm of the Neon Trees song I had been listening to on the ride over here, annoyed that it was becoming stuck in my head.

Looking down to the end of the hallway, I realized nothing was familiar. Then again, who really looks at their hallway in depth? Though it may be hard to believe, I wasn't the type. That was more suited to the queen of the nubs himself, Benson. He probably had everything sorted into lame lists with titles like _Immoblie Objects_ and _Plant Life Under 3 Feet_. I bet his mom bought him a new cataloguing system for it and everything! I snorted. Carly told me I should cut him some slack, but his mom had to have taught him that stupid rhyme about sticks and stones. Not that it was of much use when on the receiving end of my threats. I'll be honest, though. It took a lot of guts to take Mama's insults and Benson never backed down. Admirable, but still kind of stupid.

There were only two doors, both of which had little brass numbers attached to their surface, in the entire hallway and neither of them was labeled 304. I tried my key in the nearest one with unsuccessful results. I could already feel the room shrink, grown and stretch before my eyes. Reaching through my mess of curls, I retrieved a bobby pin and was just about to wiggle it into the deadbolt when the door opened on its own accord. Startled, I fell backwards, landing in the oh, so attractive ass first position. No style points for me tonight, that's for sure.

You'd be surprised but the first thing out of my face wasn't, "Why is there someone in my apartment?" or "Did I leave my door unlocked before I went out?" No. It was nothing as typical or sane as that. I'm sorry to say that my first instinct was to make fun of his nerdy Galaxy Wars t-shirt and plain and simply tell the boy at my door he looked like someone had beaten him with my buttersock and shown no mercy.

He didn't even bat and eye at my insults.

"Sam! What the hell?" His irises were huge, but slowly shrank as they became accustomed to the dim light of the hallway. His hair wasn't in its usual trap of a lame attempt at being Mr. Suave but instead flopped loosely over his forehead, brushing his eyebrows ever so slightly. Not sure why exactly I noticed this but looking back, people think and do stupid things when they're drunk. The Galaxy Wars t-shirt I had teased him about only moments ago was a faded green from having been washed too many times and featured a Red Skynaut ship with Fobi Zan Rinobi. It must have been from that Galaxy Wars convention he and Spencer went to a few years ago. On his face was a look of utter exhaustion, which overrode the confusion in his features completely.

Finally, after a few awkward moments of thick silence, I decided to address the elephant in the room. Or at least the one in my head.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" I demanded, the alcohol removing the anger from my tone. I hated that I probably came across as a giggly mess of girl. I inhaled deeply and my brow crinkled in confusion wondering why the hell the entire place smelled like his cologne. "Your nub stench is polluting_ my air_."

He ran a hand through his hair and looked at me, as if examining my current state. "Excuse me?"

"I said, _nub_," –before shoving him once for good measure, though it was clear it had no effect on him-"What the hell are you doing standing in _my _doorway?" I tried to shove my way through, using nothing but brute force, but that got me absolutely nowhere. Freddie put both of his hands on my shoulders and steadied me, staring into my eyes so intensely, I became incredibly uncomfortable.

"Sam. "You're in _my _building." He released me and shook his head. "This is _my _apartment." I looked around the room and everything hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't recognize my surroundings because I wasn't _in _my building. There were only two doors because this place was a really old house that had been converted into a dorm. A dorm on Baron Street with the 24 hour deli on the corner. Benson's place. Well, shit.

Concern crept into his tone. "Sam, are you drunk?"

"…No, I'm like this all the time, Fredbag." I heard myself say.

To make my night even better I could feel my body slowly start to lose consciousness as the creaky oak floors of the hallway flew up to meet me.

_November 3rd 3:04am_

_15 Baron Street, Unit 2-B_

**Freddie POV**

Okay, so Sam shows up at my door at what, _three _in the morning? I didn't even know what time it was and I wasn't about to go and check a clock. Then she has the nerve to say that it was her house just before she blacks out and falls to the floor.

"Shit, Sam!" I cursed, moving quickly to try and catch her. I wasn't quick enough to stop her falling and her seemingly comatose body hit the ground with a painful sounding thud. I thought back to all of the times Sam has laid a beating on me or called me names or even when she threatened to "get me" after I handcuffed her to Gibby in the ninth grade. If I had been scared then, it was nothing compared to now.

I dropped to my knees and cradled Sam's head in my lap, brushing her wild mess of curls out of her face. I couldn't help but notice how peaceful she looked in this state. The way her mouth melded into the smallest, most gentle of smiles or how her breathing kept such perfect time. Until it stopped altogether.

"Sam? Sam! SAM!" I set her head back onto the ground as gently as I could. Then, in a mad panic, I raced across the hall and pounded on the door of 2-A. It took a moment, but finally after what seemed like an eternity, Cory opened the door with a less than enthusiastic expression on his face. He looked exhausted but he couldn't have been asleep. He was probably up studying or finishing and assignment like I was.

"Seriously, Freddie? What the fu-"

"I don't have time. She just passed out! Then she stopped breathing." I don't know what to do!" I seriously felt like a chicken with its head cut off, freaking out without even bothering to internalize it. Nothing my mom had taught me about safety and first aid seemed to make sense and my thoughts seemed almost as nonsensical as my rapid movements. I was freaking out.

"What?" He knelt down beside her and put his fingers to her throat, checking her pulse. It was very faint but it was there. "I'll be right back," he said before disappearing behind his door.

I sat there, staring at her in her party clothes. The way she was lying didn't leave much to the imagination and I quickly looked away, knowing that she'd kill me for even _thinking _about looking. It wasn't like I meant to!

I patted her cheeks quickly and spoke her name over and over.

"Come on, Sam. Wake-up. Sam! Come on, Puckett, please!"

I had never done mouth to mouth resuscitation before and I really didn't know how to go about performing on _Sam._ But I knew what might happen if I didn't and I was willing to risk having my head punched off if it meant saving her.

"Okay, Sam. If you can hear me, I'm so sorry about this, but I really don't know what else to do. You can punch me and beat me up as much as you want when you come around, okay?"

Quickly, I did 30 or so compressions on her chest, pushing with all I had in me. Then, just like my mom had taught me when I was seven years old, I pinched her nose with my fingers and leaned over, preparing to blow air into her mouth. My lips were a millimetre from hers when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Dude, what are you doing?"

I moved away from Sam as quickly as my body would let me and turned to face Cory. I immediately noticed the bowl of water in his hands and didn't answer his question.

"You want me to dump that on her face? She'll kick my ass!"

"Dude, she's like tiny. And seriously hot." I'm not sure why, but I felt compelled to take the bowl from him and dump it over his head. Instead, I opted for a glare. "Sorry, man."

He raised his arms in defense as I took the bowl from him.

_On three,_ I told myself.

_One._ I looked at her sleeping face once more, hoping that she'd wake up calmly_. Two._ Hopefully she wouldn't hurt me too badly if she found out I was only doing it to save her life. There was no turning back now.

I turned the bowl upside down and braced myself for the repercussions of my actions, heroic or not.

"Three."

Sam sat up with incredible speed considering and her eyes flew open as the ice cold water hit her face, soaking her. Almost as quickly, she raised her right arm, curled it into a fist and released it in the general area of my face. It hit my nose and I felt the blood flow freely and easily a millisecond later.

"SAM!" I groaned, holding a hand over my nose. The other flew out instinctively to protect me from anything else Sam might throw my way.

Her eyes hardened and she started to stand up. "I'm going to kill you."

"Jesus!" I cried, my heart rate picking up. I stood in front of her with as much confidence as I could muster and chose my next words very carefully.

"I just tried to save you! I'm sorry but what was I supposed to do, let you die?"

Her expression softened for a moment and I could tell that underneath it all, she was thankful. Getting her to admit that was about as likely as telling Carly that Sam had decided to dabble in vegetarianism.

Her flickered back to normal, or what is normally expected of her and did what she did best. Insult me. "Shove off, Benson."

I turned to Cory, deciding to deal with the person who was less likely to rip my brains out at this particular moment in time. Looking back, it was a very smart plan.

"Thanks, man."

"No problem. Just tell your girlfriend not to get so hammered next time." He laughed. I paled, worried about what Sam would do to him for assuming that we were dating. Fortunately for me, Sam's head whipped around at the sound of the world "girlfriend", but said nothing. Her anger seemed to have subsided.

"She's not my girlfriend." I said, hoping that I sounded tough, but I was slurring my words slightly in an effort to get them out faster, so I doubted that it worked. "She's my-"

"I'm his nothing," Sam broke in, her tone slightly slurred. As she spoke, her head dipped up and down, and she tried to articulate her words with a point of her finger, but it seemed more like she was directing air traffic. Despite having had water dumped on her, she still seemed a little… happy. She was smiling from ear to ear. "Fredouche here is in love with Carly! Carlaaaaay Shaaaay!" She threw her head up and laughed like this was the funniest thing she'd ever said.

Ignoring Sam, I turned back to Cory. "See you around. Thanks again."

"Yeah, no problem." He eyed Sam and I with interest, then continued as if he knew something I didn't, "Tough break there, Benson. I've got to get some sleep. Later." Cory disappeared behind his door, shutting it tightly. I exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Come on, Sam."

She laughed again,"Yeah, whatever nub. I'm hungry." I couldn't help but roll my eyes. If there was one thing I knew for certain it was that Sam Puckett was without a doubt the most frustrating girl in the world. And she made the strangest drunk.

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><p><strong>AN:** Okay, for starters, I'M SO SORRY! I am the worst updater ever and also a total liar (though this was completely accidental)! I did not mean to take that long updating but I had some personal issues regarding the health of my family to take care of and unfortunately my fanfiction took a backseat. I'm back now (and hopefully better than ever) and hope to be updating much more frequently starting with this second chapter of what I hope to be about a five chapter story when it's done. My updates for this one might come slowly, be warned, because I have many possible endings and events that may or may not make the final cut.

Later on this week I hope to finish the final chapter of _Travis Stoll, You Are SO Not Funny _and possibly update _According to Me. _Also, I want to try to write some iCarly one-shots in the near future but juggling life might delay these a bit! Sorry, again! L

Don't despair _Battlefield _fans! I've got the rest of the story all mapped out, it's just a matter of writing the rest of the chapters!

That's all for now, guys! I love getting your feedback and try to message as many individual people my thanks as often as possible so please review! They mean the world to me, honestly! AND they make my day! (:

Thank-you all so much for reading, favouriting, subscribing and REVIEWING all of my stories!

**Happy Writing,**

_**EmilyHelene**_


	3. Just Like Old Times

**iBlame it on the Alcohol**

_an iCarly story_

**by: EmilyHelene**

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><p><em><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>_ Did you know I am a compulsive liar? I OWN iCARLY! I OWN iCARLY! Ha-ha, just kidding. Neither of those statements is true!

**I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't mean to be the worst updater but I've been through so much lately including a lot of family related issues and a few deaths so I haven't had the heart to write anything of value. Least of all this story, as it is my favourite. In a way, I don't want to give you guys anything less than my best so I hope you enjoy this chapter. To anyone who is still following this story, I love you. You are the best readers a writer could ask for. **

**(The Seddie Arc never happened in this particular universe (and it makes me so happy to need to say that! SEDDIE!)**

_**Rated T for Language**_

_**Summary:**_ "Please, I'm not some docile lightweight like you, dorkerella. Mama can take it."

"Yeah," I rolled my eyes at her, "that's exactly why you showed up at my door at three AM wasted out of your flippin' mind."

_November 3__rd__ 3:18am_

_15 Baron Street, Unit 2-B_

**Freddie POV**

"Puckett, out."

Straightening herself up to the best of her intoxicated ability, Sam pushed past me and crossed the threshold to my dorm; if you could even call it that. Sam didn't waste any time in pointing it out like she did every time she came over.

"I still can't believe that a nubborito like you is staying in a place like this." She said her voice changing decibels and escalating slightly with each syllable. She dropped her shoes in the entrance way and I winced. Partially because I was afraid the noise would wake everyone within earshot but also partially because the floor in my apartment was rather dent-free and why change that?

"You can knock my mum all you want, Sam but when she is able to talk down the owner nearly four hundred dollars rent and have the whole place cleaned head to toe with a Bissell, you learn to count your blessings."

I started looking around for a place in the city in which I could live while I was going to school; my mother decided that her participation in my decision was imperative. I wasn't allowed to live in a dorm room with anyone else, "What if they don't have good hygiene?" or "What if they smoke? Freddie Benson, you know how I feel about smoking." As a result, I landed my own place with all the bells and whistles I needed and a view to boot.

As she headed into the living room she called over her shoulder, "Uh, blah, blah, blah, Benson. You're still a nub and your mum's still a psychopath."

"As if I could forget," I whispered under my breath. Even when she was drunk she could push my buttons.

After neatening up her death-trap shoes by the entranceway, I made my way into the living room where Sam lay sprawled out on my couch, raping my Netflix. I rolled my eyes and tried my best to resist the urge to strangle her for acting like she owned the place. I'm pretty sure the only thing that kept me from wrapping my fingers around her throat was the innocent way she scrolled through the genres and their respective movies.

"Oooh, look Benson, just your type. Romantic comedies! I wonder if they even have Sleepless in Seattle." They did, I knew they did because I'd seen it a few hundred times. But other than Kate Beckinsdale's smoking body and this really neat cinematography effect I was trying to learn for my film class, it didn't really invoke much interest from me.

I padded over to where she was and shoved her over, trying to regain at least enough room to sit on my own couch. I was met with minimal success. Grabbing the remote from her hand, I turned the television off and in the process, broke her drunken little heart.

I fully anticipated the blow as the screen went black. I did not, however, anticipate it in my kidneys. I inhaled sharply, trying to wait out the pain as Sam stood up, hands on hips with her mouth molded into a glare that was enough to make me sweat. My eyes wandered down from her face to her clothing, minimal as it was. It was then that I realized that if she was going to crash here, she would have to change into something made me feel a little less like an animal.

Well, that came out in a way I didn't expect. I'd be lying if I said Sam wasn't attractive but that dress kind of did me in just a little bit. It was tightly fitted and cut off mid-thigh; probably designed to leave a guy imagining what it kept hidden. If need be, I could vouch for its effectiveness wholeheartedly.

"Uh, Sam…you've got a little…" I motioned to the upper part of her dress that was doing little in the way of keeping her chest out of sight.

Her voice cut though the somewhat awkward silence like a machete in a jungle. "What the hell, Benson. Quit staring at me…"

Feeling rather confident I decided to just come out and tell her what the problem was. "Well you are kind of falling out of your dress…"

"The fu…" she trailed off before becoming completely aware of just how much Puckett she was showing off.

Her sleepy eyes hardened as did the rest of her face. "You didn't see ANYTHING, got it? I'm going to KILL you Freddork." This threat would of course have been a lot more menacing on a face that didn't look like Sam's which, in case you were wondering, appeared to be using every muscle available to secrete the glare etched in her features.

Then she turned away from me in an attempt to cover herself up, the faintest ghost of a blush creeping up her cheeks. I smirked, somewhat proud of myself for embarrassing the queen of obnoxious behaviour. The gentleman in me pointed out that it was just wrong to make fun of a drunken girl but the part of me that had been made vulnerable for so long was sick and tired. I had never laughed louder.

I anticipated that punch, too.

Turning serious, I racked my brain for some sort of solution. "Here, I've probably got something that you can crash in. One second."

With that I disappeared behind the door to my room and made a beeline for my dresser, reaching for one of my older t-shirts that had accidentally been run through the dryer twice, shrinking it to about half of its original size. If my estimates were right, which I assumed they would be, it would potentially fit her, albeit loosely.

My sweatpants would have swallowed her up completely so they were out and all the loose fitting shorts I had were in my laundry hamper, leaving only one option. Go figure.

I opened my underwear drawer very carefully, as if I were being watched. Peering in, I hunted for a pair of my boxers that would embarrass me the least. I found a holey pair I knew I needed to get rid of anyway so I tossed them over my shoulder in the general direction of my garbage can.

"Nice undies, Benson." I turned at the sound of her voice and paled at the sight of my worn boxer short underwear in her hands. She stood, slumped against the door frame as her eyes grazed the contents of my room and flickered with satisfaction in a way that was both infuriating and dare I say it, _sexy. _

"Nice room, nub." The sarcasm in her tone must have weighed a tonne.

In my own defense my room really wasn't _that _bad. It was typical dorm stuff; a bed, desk, dresser and tiny closet. My bed sheets were balled up near the end of my bed and dirty clothes lined the floor. Of course, these weren't what Sam noticed. No, she would notice the Galaxy Wars poster over my desk and my blue replica Sabre of Light I bought of eBay a few months ago.

A giggle escaped her lips. Gritting my teeth, I pulled out a relatively unthreatening pair and chucked them and the t-shirt at her head.

Sam puffed out her lower lip in a mock-pout, "I don't get a Galaxy Wars t-shirt, too? Well, shit. Don't _you_ know how to make a girl feel special…"

I was getting pretty fed up at this point. On any given day I could handle a sober Sam. On a Thursday night after I'd just finished my midterm paper at three-something in the morning with a slightly less than sober Sam? Now that was just something that _no one _comes prepared for. "Look, Puckett. You don't have to stay here. But if you want someone to take care of your drunk ass, you should sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up." I let out a breath I hadn't known I had been holding when a witty retort didn't immediately come and was instead met with a looming lack of noise.

I'm not sure if the silence was a result of her wanting to hit me a third time for standing up to her or giving me a congratulatory punch in the shoulder for the same reason. With Sam though it was more likely to be because I dropped not one f-bomb but two and my mum wasn't around to clean my mouth out with soap until I died from high levels of glycerin in my digestive track.

"I would tell you to grow a pair but it seems like you already did."

Normally, I would have puffed out my chest in pride at this comment but I was just too tired. I also would likely have asked what it was about my previous statement that impressed her but I knew that if I did ask, Sam would regret having congratulated me in the first place. For someone who hadn't slept in a while, I was certainly capable of coherent thought and general common sense.

"Where's your bathroom? I want to go take a change and shower my clothes." I looked up startled, having almost forgotten that she was in the room with me. It's funny how your thoughts can just completely separate you from reality. I snickered slightly at her drunken abuse of the English language but decided not to comment on it this time.

I stared at her, unable to believe she couldn't remember. "It's the door next to my room, Sam. Use cold water, trust me." I couldn't help but wonder just how much alcohol she had actually had to drink.

As she walked down the hall, something struck me. Hard. Sam Puckett was drunk in my apartment and I was taking care of her.

"Well, fuck." Apparently f-bombs were becoming a trend of sorts. I got the feeling that that wouldn't be the last one I uttered before sunrise either.

_November 3__rd__ 3:27am_

_15 Baron Street, Unit 2-B_

**Sam POV**

What a nub. Who's just sitting around in their apartment working on a stupid nubby paper this late? No one interesting, that's for sure. God, Freddie was so frustrating. Would it kill him to have a little fun once and a while?

I lifted a hand to my head and sighed soundlessly. The rhetorical questions and overall use of my brain for well, anything other than controlling my motor skills, would have to stop. After a few more seconds I closed my hand around the small glass handle of the bathroom door, pulling with all of my might. When it didn't budge, I resisted the urge to yell "Open sesame!" and pulled harder. Three more futile attempts later, I collapsed against the door only to have it open softly under my weight. So it was a push door. Huh.

It's safe to say that the door won this battle.

I traipsed into the bathroom and closed the door behind me, cursing that stupid fucking door for not having a label and began tugging my clothes off one by one. My black dress fell in a heap of cotton on the floor and I kicked it across the room, wearing nothing by my bra and underwear. The mirrored cabinet in the bathroom confirmed my suspicions: I did, in fact, look like shit.

I looked on at my figure in the mirror, criticizing every aspect I could find. My eyes were slightly uneven, my mascara was running from the water that Freddie and his lovely asshole of a neighbour had poured on my face, zits I hadn't seen since high school were popping up along my cheeks like flowers in the spring and then there was my body. A different story entirely, my body just didn't look the way I wanted it to. Not that I had any hopes to look like a nine year old boy, but would a flat stomach be too much to ask for? I sighed, of course it would. I was a mess.

It was a stark contrast of the neat and orderly set-up of Freddo's bathroom. For a college boy, it was pristine. I half-expected Mrs. Benson to jump out from behind the shower curtain screaming at me to get out, armed with a bottle of Lysol and rubber gloves. I laughed to myself and resumed stripping until I wore nothing but a pair of earrings and nail polish.

I bent over the side of the tub and let the water run over my hand, making sure the temperature was just right. Then I remembered what Freddie had told me and adjusted the dial until the water was just above freezing. Gritting me teeth, I pulled back the shower curtain and gave myself a pep-talk before stepping in to Alaska in liquid form.

My blood-curdling scream was probably heard by the entire block.

_November 3__rd__ 3:29am_

_15 Baron Street, Unit 2-B_

**Freddie's POV**

I stared aimlessly at the television flippantly which likely would have been normal had it been actually playing something.

My Y chromosome could not help but force images of Sam showering in the washroom down the hall into my head and it was taking a lot of restraint to remain as calm as I was. I fell back against the worn fabric of my couch and let out a deep breath. Needing to distract myself, I got up and went to my room and got my paper. I figured that if I was going to be awake at this hour, I might as well get something productive done while I had the chance. A few moments later I felt my insides turn to stone as I heard Sam's scream echo across the apartment.

About a million worst case scenarios flashed through my mind, many of which involved her mangled body on the floor of my shower with broken limbs and lots of blood. Why hadn't I gone in there with her or at least turned it on or something? Sam was dead. She was dead and the fault was entirely my own.

"Sam!" At some point during that endless train of thought, I found my voice. "Sam! What happened? Are you hurt?"

I bolted to the bathroom and threw open the door, racing to the shower. I was just about to throw back the shower curtain when I remembered that behind that little piece of plastic, Sam was naked. Grabbing a towel, I took a deep breath and released it shakily.

"Sam, cover up what you don't want seen." Hopefully my voice came across as confident because I felt about as secure as a combination lock purchased from the dollar store. I shut off the water and tossed the towel in to her, turning away to give her some privacy.

"Are you decent?"

"…Yeah." She said, her words coming out as shakily as my own had. I opened my eyes to find her curled into a ball at one end of the tub, barely covered by the terrycloth. I held up two fingers.

"Two things," I started, "First off, what the hell? Are you injured? What happened? And two, you almost gave me a heart attack. I thought you were dead."

She just stared at me, her bangs damp and splayed across her forehead, eyes slightly distant. "The water was cold. That's all." I let out another huge breath and ran a hand through my hair.

"Of course the water- Seriously Sam? What the fuck? I honestly can't even believe it! You shouldn't even be here right now! I should be _asleep_ right now but instead I'm taking care of your sorry ass who screams bloody murder when the shower water is a little cold. I mean God dammit, Sam!" I kicked the side of the tub in frustration at that point. Needless to say, that was one of my poorly made decisions.

"Sorry." Her voice was tired and barely above a whisper.

I was about to go on ranting and raving but I realized it would get me nowhere. Also, I was a little bit in shock having just received an apology from the girl who I, at one time, believed was the devil incarnate.

"Wh-what did you just say?"

"Jesus, I said I was sorry, okay? I'm tired and don't feel that great and now I feel like shit. Are you happy now? Maybe I'll just leave, get out of your hair. I'm sorry." She started to get up and wrap the towel around her body when her words finally got through to me.

"No, Sam. Don't be ridiculous. It's way too late to go anywhere, you can crash here." She looked up at me with a nearly undetectable hint of vulnerability and was it _gratitude_? She smiled at me and I froze where I stood as she mumbled,

"Thanks, Freddork." This night was getting stranger and stranger with each passing minute.

Suddenly and without warning her smile dissipated and it was replaced with the characteristic smirk and devilish gleam in her piercing blue eyes. She reached up to punch me in the arm while strategically holding her towel around herself with the precision of a seasoned professional. As I had expected, it hurt just as much as any other punch Sam Puckett could have thrown. I'll admit it was admirable.

"Good, then get out so I can grab a shower." I rolled my eyes but decided to bow out graciously of the small room, muttering a few choice words under my breath. "Towels are in the basket under the sink."

"Great, now get out." I had to chuckle at that, all the while doing my very best to rid the mental images of Sam in her towel out of my head. After all, I didn't need anything else to be teased about.

At last I was free to just sit down on the couch and relax. Between writing my paper and taking care of Sam, I'd had little time to shut my brain down. If I was lucky, maybe I'd be able to get a few minutes of sleep before she was done in the washroom.

But of course I wasn't lucky and could hear the ringing of little electronic bells from Sam's cell phone down the hallway. Groaning, I got up to go and shut the thing off.

I found it in her purse along with some cash, bobby pins, different tubes of make-up and a mickey of whiskey that was half-empty. Her bag was so tiny I hadn't a clue how she managed to fit anything in it, let alone a bottle of whiskey.

I stood there, aimlessly staring at the bottle deciding whether or not to put it to good use. After a quick analysis of my situation, I raised the bottle to my lips in silent toast to myself and the blond-headed demon down the hall. If this night was going to go the way I thought it might, I would need all the help I can get. I'd never been one for whiskey, but tonight nothing could have tasted better.

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><p><strong>AN: There are so many things I want to say but mostly it's just thanks! I wish you guys could know how badly I feel about this super late update!**

**Please review if you can, it is greatly appreciated and hopefully will make chapters appear faster! I estimate that there are about 3 or 4 chapters left. (:**

**I love you!  
><strong>

**R & R, please! (:  
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